Let the heavens be glad, and the earth rejoice! Let the sea and everything in it shout his praise! Let the fields and their crops burst out with joy! Let the trees of the forest sing for joy. [Psalm 96:11-12 (NLT)]
In Letters to Malcom, C. S. Lewis wrote, “We, or at least I, shall not be able to adore God on the highest occasions if we have learned no habit of doing so on the lowest. … Any patch of sunlight in a wood will show you something about the sun which you could never get from reading books on astronomy. These pure and spontaneous pleasures are ‘patches of Godlight’ in the woods of our experience.”
What Lewis called “patches of Godlight,” I think of as God’s grace notes. In music, a grace note is played with a light quick motion that immediately leads to the principle and stressed note. Unnecessary for the melody and so brief they don’t alter the tempo, grace notes merely enrich the music by adding a small embellishment. Like the musical grace note and Lewis’s “patches of Godlight,” God’s grace notes aren’t necessary; nevertheless, they enhance our lives. They’re subtle reminders that God is present and loves us enough to embellish the day with a little something extra.
Unlike Kodak moments, Godlight and grace notes are not meant to be saved. They’re rarely repeated and we can’t predict when a “patch of Godlight” will shine into our lives or a grace note will play. While waiting at a red light, I glanced at the grassy median to my left where small yellow flowers appeared to be dancing in the air. Although hundreds of dainty Sulphur butterflies were flitting to and fro just a few inches above the yellow wireweed in the grass, it looked like the flowers’ petals had escaped from their stems and the field was bursting with joy! Did God arrange that revelry in yellow just for me? Probably not, but it felt like He did and my day changed for the better because of it.
After noticing that others at that light seemed oblivious to the butterfly frolic, I wondered how many of God’s grace notes I’ve missed because I wasn’t looking or listening. As the prophet Elijah learned, God doesn’t necessarily reveal Himself in spectacular displays of things like lightning, wind, thunder, and fire. Our infinitely creative God whispers through the ordinary as well—with things as mundane as yellow butterflies, a child’s laughter, the aroma of jasmine, a finch on the windowsill, a song on the radio, seeing a young couple caress or an old couple walk hand in hand, a shooting star, a stranger’s smile, or a patch of sunlight while walking through the woods. Although God personalizes His grace notes for each one of us, we need to slow down and be mindful enough to recognize and appreciate them.
There is an old Hindi poem, translated by Ravindra Kumar Karnani, in which a child asks God to reveal Himself. God responds with a meadowlark’s song, then the roar of thunder, followed by a star, and the birth of a baby. In her ignorance, however, the child doesn’t recognize any of God’s answers. Finally, in desperation, she cries, “Touch me God, and let me know you are here!” But, when God touches the child, she brushes off the butterfly and walks away disappointed. It occurs to me that we are not much different from her. May we never thoughtlessly brush away one of God’s gentle kisses, fail to notice His grace notes, or miss appreciating a small patch of Godlight!
Are we paying attention to the everyday moments of our lives and seeing God in them, or are we living in such a chaotic frenzy that we hope we’ll have time to look for the presence and mystery of God later, when we have more time – say, when the degree is finished, the kids have moved out, this project is completed, or we retire? [Dean Nelson]
Devotions of the Heart 